Baseball
by des Beasty
Summary: A One-Shot in which Scout is bored one day, but finds that no one really wants to entertain him. Rated T for language.


**Disclaimer:** TF2 'n whatnot belongs to Valve.

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"Awww Jeezus, I'm so bored."

Scout plopped into a worn chair that had been hastily patched up over the years. He rested his legs on a couple of crates that served as the teams coffee table, which earned him a disapproving look from the Spy. The younger man half expected the rest of the team to give him some task to do, but no one spoke up. He let a out a great, exasperated sigh to further indicate his bored dilemma, which put the Spy over the edge.

"Why don't you go and play zat baseball nonsense you Americans love so?" He sneered over some papers he had been studying.

Scout growled a little. "I would, if someone'd freakin' play wit me!"

"Well, go play with yourself zen!"

That earned a snort from the Demoman, who nearly snorted some of his precious whiskey out of his nostrils, as well as a slight smirk from the Sniper, though he hadn't looked away from his vigilant watch out the window. The Scout, however, wasn't as amused as the other guys were.

"Well, maybe I will!

With that, Scout jumped up from his seat and noisily stomped to where he had thrown his baseball gear (a worn mitt, his trusty wooden bat and ball) and on out the door. On his way out, he made a mental note to definitely try and hit one right into the window. _Maybe right into that slimey Frenchie's face._ Scout grinned at the thought of Spy running around with a baseball in one of his eye sockets.

-

The air was still and hot, sun high in the sky. Scout almost began to regret wanting to play now that he got out of the base, especially since no one else seemed too terribly interested in humoring him with a single game. Throwing the mitt off into a corner, he dragged his bat behind him, marking off the bases to his makeshift baseball field (and, of course wasting a little time, just in case someone did decide to play with him).

"What'er doin' there, boy?" A man with a Texan accent called out to him, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Scout glowered a little. "Makin' a baseball field, what'sit to ya, Hardhat?"

"Thought ya'll might like some comp'ny- maybe a pitcher?"

The Engineer grinned his award-winning grin, which Scout had always liked, though he would never openly say it. It was warm, friendly... Something that was very rare to find among the other team mates. A small smile tugged at the younger man's lips and he shrugged.

"Do whateva y'like, I dun care."

Scout tossed him the ball and went back to marking out the bases in the sand.

The Engineer caught the ball, noting how worn it was. Perhaps, it was Scout's little reminder of home, of his brothers, mother…his old life. The older man furrowed a brow as he ran his thumb along a seam. _Maybe yer just bein' too sentimental, Engie. Boy prob'ly hardly ever thinks 'bout his fam'ly with all the fightin' and whatnot._ He thought, mind still wandering.

"'Hey, Hardhat! Y'gunna pitch or what?"

He raised his head, and started to study the lanky boy who impatiently swung his bat back and forth. The Engineer chuckled inwardly as he made his way to the makeshift pitching mound the Scout hastily built.

"C'mon, man! I ain't got all day!" Scout complained, then crouched a little, bat held above his head.

"Alright, alright. Hold yer horses, boy." He replied with a wave of the hand. "Go easy on me, kiddo, I'm a bit rusty."

Scout rolled his eyes. "Just throw the damn ball."

Engineer tossed the ball from hand to hand, measuring it's weight. He then straightened himself up and did a quick mental calculating of the distance between him and the exasperated youth. He smirked, wound up and threw the ball with surprising force. Scout jumped back, shouting in surprise as it whizzed past him.

"JEEZUS! My God! What are'ya tryin' to do, kill me?"

Engineer laughed heartily. "Somethin' like that. Ready fer the next one?"

Scout answered in a grumble, stomping to the ball, grabbing it and tossed it at Engie's head. The older man deftly caught it and straightened up again, preparing to pitch.

"I'm aiming ta strike you out, boy!"

The younger man spat, and took up his bat once more. "Bring it, old man!"

The Engineer grinned wider and threw, and soon after heard a loud crack. Scout laughed. Engineer whistled and took off his hard hat as the two watched the ball fly through the air...then right through a window. A yell soon followed the window's shattering as well as a long string of foreign words, presumably curses in what sounded like French, Italian and perhaps Spanish.

"Sheeeeeeyoot! Scout! Sure sounded like Spah. Yer in fer it now." The Texan chuckled, and walked over to a few hastily stacked crates.

The blood drained from Scout's face as the curses grew louder and louder, yet instead of turning tail and running, he merely stood there, feet rooted to the ground. The Engineer suddenly felt rather sorry for the poor boy, and patted the crate next to him.

"C'mere boy, I'll protect you from the big, bad Spah."

The Scout hopped over to the crate and right on it then started to laugh a little.

"I ain't afraid of no stinkin' Spy, 'specially not our Spy! I run circles around 'em. They couldn't catch me even if they tried! Ha!"

"Eez zat so, mon petit?" A voice murmured dangerously.

The Bostonian jumped a little and tensed up to spring and start sprinting, until he felt a cool blade against his throat. He gulped. Apparently Spy was a little faster than he has expected. The Spy flickered into view, disabling his cloaking device and it was quite obvious to both of the Americans that the ball had in fact found it's way to Spy's right eye. Engineer supressed a laugh and laid a hand on the furious Frenchman's shoulder and squeezed it.

"'Ey, 'ey.. Spah. Take it easy on 'im. He's only a kid."

Spy growled softly, shifting his gaze to the Texan.

"Y-yeah! Take it easy on me, man!" Scout agreed but soon shut his mouth as the Spy turned his gaze back on him and pressed the cold steel harder against his flesh.

Engineer sighed. "C'mon Spah. It wasn't all his fault. Ah threw the damn thing."

He gave another snarl and withdrew his knife, and pulled away from the Texan, looking very, very put out.

"I will spare you zis time around, boy. Next time eet 'appens, you will not be so lucky."

With that, the Spy brushed off his suit and straightened his tie before heading back into the base. As soon as Scout was sure Spy was out of hearing range, he leaned against a crate and let a soft sigh escape his lip. He took his hat and eheadgear off and wiped his brow with the back of his bandaged hand.

"Hey, uh..Engie..thanks for that man." The Bostonian muttered. "Not that I needed it! Had it all under control."

Engineer chuckled. "'Course you did, boy."

Scout bristled, and grumbled, "well, I did! I coulda beat that wuss' ass, if I wanted to."

"Mmm..I believe you."

The two were silent for a while. The Engineer leaned up against the wall quietly making new blueprints of machines in his mind. _A dispenser that's a vendin' machine. Shoot, why didn't I think a'that before! _He grinned and nodded to himself. _That one's a keeper, fer sure._

Scout on the other hand, fidgeted almost nervously. He looked towards the older man, hoping that he would start talking to him, but he seemed too lost in his own thoughts. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then looked away.

"Hey, uh..Engie?"

The Engineer looked up. "Mm?"

"Thanks for uh..for playin' ball with me."

"'Course."

The Bostonian fell silent again, searching for his words. For some reason or another, he seemed to run out of them which was very odd because he almost never stopped talking.

"Think..we could do it again tomorrow?"

Engineer paused to think for a moment, before his lips curled into a mischievous grin.

"Wanna try for Spah's other eye?"

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AN: Alright, so. This is just a little something I was working on for a bit, in-between TF2 sessions and whatnot. Just wanted to get a feel for some of the characters. C: Hopefully, it was enjoyable to read. If not, eep!


End file.
